Last night, I met an angel. She was 20 years old, and I don’t know her name. I never know any of their names. I make it a point never to find out who a person was before they died.

She jumped in front of a car to save her dog. I reached her only seconds after the impact. The dog lay over her broken body, whining, as the drunk driver stumbled out of the car and vomited.

The girl looked painfully familiar. Blood stained her pale blonde hair, and her eyes, still open and staring up at the night sky, were an icy blue. Her soul wasn’t ready to go.

I’ve met some stubborn souls before. I’ve had to rip some out of the hands of hope myself, and if there’s one thing that’s the same about each soul, it’s that each one leaves claw marks on its body. Fighting to live is different from fighting to not die.

How can I explain this?

The dog slid his paw into the cold, lifeless hand of his owner and howled. The angel’s soul smelled pure and innocent. I couldn’t stop myself from looking up to see who she was.

Memories played out in the sky like a sitcom on TV. The angel and her friend having lunch. The angel helping an old lady cross the road. The angel volunteering at hospitals and food drives. The angel rescuing the dog she would later die for.

It made me sick. I could hardly keep my grip as the soul suddenly became heavy and weighed me down.

The dog looked at me. I had stayed too long already, and it was too late when our eyes met.

I could see the dog two years from now, laid out on a table and being poked at by veterinarians. That’s how he’ll die. Can’t I stop it? I wanted to lay the angel’s soul in a warm bed and tuck it in, whispering, “You did fine. You did great,” and “He’ll be okay. I’ll make sure of it.”

But who am I to make a deal with the devil?

I could feel his harsh stare from miles away, and I could almost feel his bony, burning hand as he grabbed my shoulder and threatened me with empty words.

Somewhere, my soul is trapped in a cage, daring to escape and return to me. Somewhere, I am trapped in a cage, longing to look at the stars without seeing the faces of the dead frowning down at me.

But today, I will take the soul of a soldier and, most certainly, many others as well. Today, I smile up at the dead.